Dear Hanover CVS,

I want to thank you for being what so many other stores aren’t. Part snack stop, part supply emporium, part costume warehouse, part Topside-price-relief, it makes me happy to spend nine months out of the year so close to you.

I know how good you are because, well, I cheated on you a little. I had to spread my wings and see what the other stores out there were like. Some were dives, practically giving away their wares. Some were classy, able to clean up nicely but always leaving me unsatisfied. Some even had almost anything I could ever want, but wouldn’t make the 24-hour commitment.

I’ll be coming back to you soon. And when I do, I know you’ll be waiting.

All my love,
Will

I didn’t write this two months ago, but I could have. In the wonderful fall climate of Edinburgh, every 15-minute drug store junket made me curse under my breath at the store that called itself “Boots.” Let me tell you something: walking around Boots with a shopping list of standard personal care items is like scouring a huge forest for specific rocks and trees. You know they’re in there somewhere, but for some reason they just aren’t where you can find them. And if you do manage to find them, they probably aren’t the rocks and trees you’ve come to like, and they have odd scents (why the hell is deodorant different in Europe?). In the interest of extending this metaphor beyond any reasonable measure of utility, the employees are the white-tailed deer who bolt when you move close to them. In comparison, CVS employees offer to help you find something approximately 1.3 times per visit. (I just made that up.) Apparently, service-people in the UK still think they need to maintain a policy of “salutary neglect” toward Americans.

I can safely report that this particular relic of 18th-century foreign policy extends to more than just drugstore employees. Without going into the nuances of a “base wages vs. tips” debate right now, I’ll just say that I am now firmly on the side of the American system (at least from a consumer perspective) because I know that without the incentive of those crumpled singles and fives at the end of the day, no one really cares how long you wait for that second cup of coffee. Have to make a train in a few minutes? Better be ready to jump the waiter. Craving another Guinness? Might have to beat the shit out of the bartender. There were more than a few occasions when I felt like the best way to signal the wait-staff was to knock something over and sit there patiently like I’d hit the assistance button on an airplane.

The best part of CVS? They don't have to be good. They practically have a monopoly. They could stock their shelves with more crap than an Edinburgh “Pound Stretcher” (think diapers next to dutch ovens) and completely ignore their customers, and the laziness quotient of Dartmouth students (to which I am a frequent contributor) would still compel them to visit. Because, no matter what:

1. Topside will always emerge victorious in the “stocked with worthless shit” category.
2. Topside is a bigger rip-off than the guys in Paris who play the shell game with newspaper, coasters, and a cardboard box.
3. Most Dartmouth students don't have cars, and probably won't take Advanced Transit to West Leb in order to meet their body wash needs.

And even if no Dartmouth student ever went to CVS, it wouldn't really matter, because, hey, the professors have to buy their pills somewhere! The managers at CVS know this, but, by golly, they still try. And God bless them for it.

Paradoxically, the employees and administrators of the University of Edinburgh were some of the most helpful people I've ever met. Maybe there is some sort of societal “cap and trade” system for helpfulness in the British economy that Americans don't get to know about? Or maybe Americans have invested so heavily in the culture of the service industry that other sectors now require helpfulness tax breaks? Now that my comparison is thoroughly muddled, I'll leave you with this: Hanover CVS employees, past and present, ought to staff some of the administrative offices at Dartmouth. They may not get it all right, but at least they’ll try to be helpful.